


sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).

by frostfall



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Toy Story Fusion, Angst, Everyone are toys except Miles and Kamala, Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 52
Kudos: 177





	sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [Like Real People Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms) by Hozier.
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing beta, [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/), for the help 🥰💙

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

Steven Grant Rogers who let go of the Captain America mantle.

Steven Grant Rogers who betrayed him.

Steven Grant Rogers who Tony once loved.

Steven Grant Rogers who broke his heart into a million pieces all those years ago.

Tony would’ve buried his face in his hands and let out the loudest scream, let out a stream of curses. Maybe even thrust his fists against Steve’s broad chest. But thanks to Miles and Kamala, his armor is a goner.

What even _is_ his life?

Looking back, Tony wouldn’t say it’s Miles’ fault. He puts the blame solely on Kamala for letting Miles put him in this predicament.

Then again, Miles didn’t have to go along with whatever Kamala had in mind, so that makes it both of their fault. 

No, it’s _everyone’s_ fault. Miles and Kamala for putting them in awkward situations, Tony for being an idiot, and Steve…

Steve for being, well, Steve.

* * *

It started like most things do for a toy like Tony – with Show and Tell.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Tony is Miles’s pick, this time. 

It makes sense. This month’s theme is ‘Your Favorite Toy’, after all. And since Tony is Miles’ favorite behind Peter (who’s barred from ever showing up in Miles’ class again. Apparently, gushing about Peter Parker’s winning personality and intelligence and bendable limbs in every show-and-tell even bores excited first graders to death), Tony has to make an appearance.

And also to absolutely no one’s surprise and Tony’s irritation, Miles brings Steve Rogers along with him too.

It’s not like Tony has a problem with Steve Rogers. After all, how could anyone hate Steve Rogers? He’s the embodiment of apple pie and sweet tea, oozes of goodness and purity, and is a champion of equality. That man is a literal walking American flag. It doesn’t matter if Miles’ Steve is based on the guy who denounced the mantle. Nor does it matter if Steve dyed Tony’s armor black (again, Tony’s pissed because, _How dare he?_ ), grew out a gnarly beard, and goes by the name of ‘Nomad’. Steve’s a toy. It’s not like Tony could begrudge him.

But the problem is that, well—

“Cap and Iron Man aren’t friends,” says some kid, cutting Miles off. “They hate each other. Why’re you saying they are friends?”

Miles’ smile fades and god, if only Tony wasn’t six inches tall and made out of plastic, he’d shove his gauntlet in that kid’s face. It doesn’t matter if he’s six. No one makes Miles sad.

“But—”

Miles doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a girl from the back of the class jumps to her feet and lets out a loud, “You’re wrong!”

Party Pooper turns his attention towards her, sneering. “Have you seen the movies? They hate each other.”

Miles’ savior hardens, hands on her hips. “They don’t. They like each other. They went back in time together.”

Party Pooper rolls his eyes. Tony might not know who this girl is but he really, really wants to punch Party Pooper for acting super patronizing towards her. “That’s one time. What about other times?”

“They do get along,” she points out. “They’ve joked around and protected each other and—”

“But have you _seen_ them? They hate each other!”

Miles’ savior stalks over towards Party Pooper’s desk, pinning him with the iciest scowl Tony has ever seen a six-year-old muster. “I watched all of them! How could you—”

“Kamala,” the teacher finally chides (took her way too long in Tony’s opinion, but whatever, it’s still better than nothing). “Sit back down.”

Miles’— _Kamala_ blanches. “But— But—”

“Enough, Kamala,” the teacher stresses before turning her sharp scowl towards Party Pooper. “James, it’s not nice to interrupt your friends when they’re talking. What do we say when you’ve made a mistake?”

Party Pooper has the decency to look chastised, his cheeks reddening. He does end up apologizing, albeit reluctantly. A part of Tony bristles at the half-hearted attempt, but Miles seems eager to wrap things up so he lets it slide. For now.

The rest of Show and Tell goes without a hitch and before Tony knows it, he’s back to sitting in total darkness for the next several hours. His favorite activity.

He’s debating on whether he should take a quick nap when he hears faint rustling coming from the other end of the backpack.

“What did you think?”

Tony twists his head to his side. It’s a little uncomfortable being inside Miles’ backpack, sandwiched between Miles’ Math homework and a tuna sandwich.

Steve Rogers who’s mostly likely peering at him through his beard with the weirdest look on his face, waiting on Tony’s answer like an idiot.

It’s not the first time Tony’s glad that they can’t see each other. From the moment Tony laid his eyes on Steve, he’s been subjected to one too many puppy-dog eyes and one too many poor attempts at making conversation. Like he’s begging Tony for forgiveness, which Tony has no right to give to Steve because _they’re toys, for god’s sake_.

“Think about what?”

“What those kids were saying.”

Tony’s well aware that it’s not true. Not all of it, at least. He’s met their comic counterparts back at the toy store he used to live at. Their bizarre closeness had rubbed Tony the wrong way, since he was too busy nursing his hatred for his own Steve Rogers at the time.

He almost tells Steve this, tells him how annoying it was to hear ‘Winghead’ and ‘Shellhead’ every minute, tells him how much he wanted to squeeze those stupid bobbleheads who wouldn’t stop making squealing noises at each other, tells him that their Legos counterparts are the worst at flirting because god—

But then he remembers that Steve’s from the Infinity War line and Tony’s from Civil War and pushes his thoughts away. Steve is stubborn. Steve would think he’s lost his mind.

Steve hates him. And Steve will always hate him. Because he’s from the Infinity War line and Tony’s from Civil War

Tony shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, not everything they said is wrong.”

“You think so?” Steve asks.

“About what?” Tony counters, irritation slipping in. “You gotta be specific here.”

“You know. What he…” The sound of plastic clashing together, followed by a heavy exhale. “What James said. About us not being friends?”

Tony blinks, unsure what to make of the steel in Steve’s voice. “We’re toys.”

“So?”

“So… Does it matter?”

“Why not?”

Neither of them speaks for a long moment. Tony could imagine the thoughts turning in Steve’s head. Steve’s always been one to fixate on the weirdest details.

Which is probably why he thought Wanda being stuck in—

Tony wills the thought away. He’s not going down that path. Not at all. After all, they’re freaking toys. All of that doesn’t apply to them. It doesn’t explain Steve’s weird demeanor around Tony. But that’s Steve’s problem, not his.

“Of course you’d remember his name,” Tony mutters under his breath.

“I don’t need super soldier memory to remember it,” Steve replies, sounding oddly petulant and mournful at the same time. Then again, Steve has been petulant and mournful since the first moment Miles pulled him out of his box. Acting like Tony’s biggest enemy and regret simultaneously.

“I mean, he isn’t entirely wrong,” Tony replies. “I mean, out of all the toy lines, I think we’re the best examples of that.”

“I didn’t exactly—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Tony says, shutting down the conversation. He’s already gotten weird comments from other toys. He doesn’t need anymore, least of all, Steve’s. The less he dwells on the matter, the better.

* * *

That should be the end of it. Except it isn’t.

At some point after Show and Tell, Miles and Kamala somehow forge a friendship of sorts. Or at least, that’s what Tony thinks so. Because one Friday afternoon, Miles returns home with Kamala in tow, the both of them armed with stacks of DVDs.

For some reason, Miles decided the occasion needed his toys’ presence, dragging all of them out of his toybox and perching them on the edge of the coffee table so they could watch along, because why not?

The show isn’t as bad as Tony thought it’ll be. Sure, the animation isn’t the best and the dialogue and humor are obviously aimed for kids. But Tony would be lying if he doesn’t find certain parts downright hilarious or not feel wistful at the dynamics the cartoon Avengers seem to share, especially—

“You’re right,” Miles whispers in awe as Cartoon Steve screams Cartoon Tony’s name for the gazillionth time. “They like each other.”

Kamala beams at him, scooping up another handful of popcorn. “I told you.”

Tony ignores the smug and knowing looks his fellow toys send his way and he definitely ignores Steve’s burning stare.

Because there’s no way Steve would care for him, not in the way Cartoon Steve does for his Tony. No way at all.

* * *

Unfortunately for Tony, it doesn’t end with Avengers Assemble.

After Miles and Kamala are done bingeing the whole series, Kamala introduces Miles to another animated series featuring Bambi-eyed Tony and chunky Steve and then a movie where ugly Steve and ugly Tony flirt with each other for seventy-one minutes. And don’t get Tony started on the awkward reenactments Miles and Kamala force upon Miles’ toys. Embracing Steve was like embracing a brick wall. Times ten.

Which sucks. The whole thing sucks, so, so, _so_ much. There’s not a day that goes by that Tony doesn’t wonder at the what-ifs – what if Steve wasn’t besotted with Bucky freaking Barnes who is insignificant in other media and not the MC-freaking-U, what if Disney and Marvel had competent writers who know their own lore, what if Tony wasn’t such a big idiot pining over someone he can’t have, just like he was in the movie.

It’s pathetic. Tony is _Tony Stark_. He’s Iron Man. He’s from the Civil War line. He knows very well that Steve doesn’t care for him. Every MCU Steve except probably Endgame Steve doesn’t care for him, including Miles’ sad and pathetic Infinity War Steve. Miles’ Steve only feels ill-disguised guilt and probable anger for Tony.

Which again, sucks so, so much.

“I don’t think he’s angry,” Peter’s voice suddenly pipes up next to him, snapping Tony out of his reverie. “I mean, he keeps giving you these sad puppy dog eyes, which are by the way—”

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Can it.”

Peter straightens. “Yes, sir.”

Tony sighs, facepalming. The hero worship thing is getting old. It’s endearing. But still, old.

Like sure, he likes Peter. Likes him a whole lot. In fact, he and Peter were bought together as a Christmas present for Miles. They have the strongest bond out of all the toys.

But that kid needs to stop treating him like he’s an old man. He’s not. He’s in his forties, not seventies.

“You think so?” Tony asks.

“Think what?”

Tony lets out a yelp, scrambling to his feet. He probably would’ve tripped over himself if a strong arm hasn’t curled around his waist, tugging him back on solid ground.

And well, speak of the devil. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, his eyes roving his body in apparent concern. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m fine,” Tony says curtly. “I just didn’t—”

“I know. Still, I shouldn’t have—”

“I’m fine,” Tony cuts him off. “It’s nothing. You just startled me, is all.”

Steve falters, withdrawing. Tony quietly mourns the loss of his touch. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony echoes, his voice a murmur. He clears his throat, his eyes glancing away. It’s times like these that he’s glad he has his helmeted head screwed on. He doubts he could take Steve’s reactions to Tony’s expressions. “I wasn’t talking to you, by the way. I was talking to Peter.”

For some reason, Steve’s smile slips off his face, his lips flattening. “Oh. Do you want me to—”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to—” Tony cuts himself off, his mouth moving before his brain could stop it. “You think it’s weird?”

Steve perks up at the question. He does it a lot whenever Tony tries to make conversation with him, which is hardly ever. “What’s weird?”

“You know,” Tony waves a hand. “Seeing us… You know…”

Steve arches an eyebrow, looking both curious and outright devastated at the same time. “Get along?”

A lump forms in Tony’s plastic throat. “Yeah.”

Steve crosses his arms in front of his chest. “We do get along, you know,” he points out, sounding like the petty child he secretly is.

“ _Did_ , you mean,” Tony blurts out.

Once again, the smile on Steve’s face fades and Tony resists the urge to slap himself, faceplate or not.

“I know what you mean,” he hastily amends. “But… We— Uh, the MCU us. We’ve never… We’ve never been that open with each other, you know? Free, I mean. Not in the way alternate versions of us are. Free with our affect— I mean, l— Feelings. You know, like—”

“I know,” Steve murmurs, thankfully changing the subject. His shoulder sag, whether in disappointment or relief, Tony doesn’t know. He hopes it’s the latter.

Which is good. Very good. After all, Tony was going to talk about how lonely he was and how much he’s been pining over Steve’s sad and pathetic self the moment he popped out from the box. Before then, even.

God, why does every Tony long for a Steve. It doesn’t make any sense.

Besides, he really doesn’t want to be the guy to break Steven Grant Rogers’ heart. Bucky might shoot him in his sleep.

“I mean, we probably do off-screen but the MCU are cowards and—”

“Do you want to watch the sunset with me?”

Tony stills, his heart freezing in his chest. Steve seems to share his shocked sentiment, his startling azure eyes wide under the warm sun rays. Tony inwardly curses Hasbro for giving Steve his signature baby blues because, god. Just, god.

They hold each other’s gazes for an awkward moment that freezes and stretches longer than it should. A part of Tony itches to reach over. To touch. Feel. Taste. But then he remembers – Steve? Infinity War. Tony? Civil War. 

Relationship? Nothing. 

“What?”

Steve’s cheeks redden, his hand reaching for his neck. “I mean, if you want. When Miles isn’t here, I always like to sit on the window sill and—”

“Watch the sunset because you think the colors are pretty, I know.”

Steve blinks. “You do?”

Tony nods, his gaze drifting down to his boots. “You’ve asked me. To sit with you all the time.”

“I do?”

He hums in confirmation, twining his fingers behind his back like a dumb high schooler.

 _And then I turn you down like an idiot and then watch you sit with your precious Bucky as you watch the sunset together like a couple straight out of a fairytale. Then you stop asking me so all I do is try to play Mario Kart while you and Barnes—_

Tony shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, it’s hard not to miss a walking flag—”

Steve snorts. “My suit’s barely a walking flag—”

“Okay, fine. It’s hard not to ignore the smell of apple pie and—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupts, amused and weirdly enough, shy. “Join me?”

The smile he sends Tony’s way leaves a warmth in his chest like it always seems to do. He hates it so, so much.

And yet, he can’t stop himself from smiling back because he’s a weak man with a weak heart.

It’s a bad idea. A very, _very_ , bad idea. He should turn him down. He should tell Steve to watch it with his boyfriend. He should—

“I’d love to.”

He is doomed.

* * *

After that, things take a turn for the weird.

It’s not like out of the ordinary weird. Not for Tony, anyway. He’s well aware he doesn’t make friends easily. Bucky tossed him into Miles’ stack of color pencils when they first met without any explanation.

Yet somehow, warming up to Steve Rogers has to be the most bizarre experience he’s ever had.

Ever since they watched the sunset perched on the edge of Miles’ window sill like a pair of idiots, Steve’s taken every opportunity to seek Tony out. Whenever Tony isn’t occupied with someone else, Steve sidles up to him to initiate conversation about anything random, from the latest beef between Sam and Bucky to the differences between cupcakes and muffins.

And it’s nice. Nice to see Steve’s stupid smile directed at _him,_ for once. Nice to see Steve throwing his head back and laugh at one of Tony’s dumb jokes. Nice to be the center of Steve’s attention for once.

But it shouldn’t be weird, right? Like, they’re just friends. There’s nothing weird about noticing how many gloved hands Steve seems to have and how amazing it is to watch Steve swing himself onto Miles’ desk from the door and—

“It’s definitely weird,” Rhodey remarks before hightailing, Tony hot on his heels.

In the midst of the chaos, Steve randomly pops up, offering to help catch Rhodey for Tony. Ignoring some knowing looks from the other toys, Tony immediately accepts the offer because he could never say no to free help when it comes to catching his dumb best friend.

* * *

It comes to a head one lazy Sunday afternoon.

Kamala had invited Miles over to her place for a playdate and Miles had agreed, packing up his toys for his visit, including Steve and Tony. To say Tony’s excited and curious is an understatement. 

Tony had pegged Kamala for a Marvel fan but he didn’t expect the various merchandise filling her room, from posters to mugs to toys. Even her walls are painted in familiar red, gold, and blue.

“Guess we know who she likes best,” Carol remarks smugly, gesturing towards the mini shrine of Carol Kamala seems to have, before breaking into a quiet snicker as she avoids the playful swat Sharon sends her way.

It’s a great time, overall. It’s always fun meeting new toys and swapping stories with fellow Tonies is always a blast.

But then, Endgame Tony happened.

Endgame Tony who’s currently making Steve smile like the sun and howl with laughter like a hyena.

Endgame Tony who’s spread-eagle on a Captain Marvel pillow, with Steve by his side.

Endgame Tony who seems to have Steve wrapped around his tiny, _tiny_ finger.

Tony doesn’t get it. Like sure, Endgame Tony’s helmet can flip open thanks to the button by his thigh. And sure, the armor comes with cooler upgrades (the fact he has an energy blade and a nano shield irks Tony) and sure, age might be a good look on him but—but—

But Endgame Tony has awful, _awful_ hair and his armor is super, _super_ ugly, and there are way too many wrinkles on his face, and everything about him is just plain ugly.

“Why is that old man even flirting with him?” Tony mutters under his breath, staring at the two from Kamala’s Captain Marvel planner. “Isn’t he married? Pepper would have his wrinkly—”

“Actually, he’s with me.”

Tony jerks back with a loud yelp, jumping a couple of feet in the air. “Holy mother of—”

Endgame Steve, with his big blue eyes and blond hair slicked back, just quirks his lips to one side, his eyes twinkling. “Sorry.”

Tony sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “Jeez. Steve Rogers and their stupid, stupid—” He pauses, whirling back. “Wait, did you say you and your Tony—”

Endgame Steve nods, grinning.

Tony blinks. “You’re joking.”

Endgame Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

Tony snorts at the rhetorical question. “Please. Everyone knows you’re a sassy troll behind those all-American blue eyes.”

The other eyebrow arches, his lips twitching. “All-American blue eyes?”

“Not my best comeback, I know,” Tony admits as he crosses his arms. “But whatever. Not the point. How can you guys be together? Isn’t he—”

Endgame Steve shrugs his shoulders. “That’s the movie. We’re toys. We don’t have to conform to what the movie says. Besides, Pep’s cool with it.”

If only his life was as straightforward as theirs. And Buckyless.

“Huh. Well. Congrats, I guess.”

Endgame Steve beams. “Thanks.” He nudges Tony in the ribs, a hint of playfulness in the gesture. “You should tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“You know what. You’re a genius.”

Tony scoffs.

Of course. Of course, he knows. Even if he is a stranger, he’s a Steve Rogers. He wouldn’t be Steve Rogers if he isn’t perceptive.

“Easy for you to say. You’re both from Endgame.”

_And Bucky’s dust in the movies so there aren’t any other toys with him and Kamala doesn’t own a Bucky action figure and her Sharon seems to be dating her Natasha so your Tony wouldn’t have—_

“We’re toys,” Endgame Steve says exasperatedly. “It doesn’t matter which franchise or media we come from. Besides, your Steve’s from the Infinity War line.”

“So?” Tony asks, ignoring the odd thrill that shoots through him at the mention of Steve being his.

Endgame Steve sighs. “Why do you think he grew that beard out?”

“Because he’s on the run.”

“Everyone’s right,” Endgame Steve mutters. “Being oblivious is a Tony Stark trait.”

“Hey,” Tony says, offended. “Besides, my— _Steve_ has Barnes. Stupid precious Barnes and his dry hair and his smoldering gaze and murderous—”

“Yup,” Endgame Steve continues under his breath. “Definitely dense.” He claps Tony on the back, tugging him to the side. “C’mon,” he says, raising his voice. “Kamala has a set of Lego Avengers. Let me introduce you to them.”

As fun as it is to see what the Tower looks like if it was built with plastic bricks, Tony can’t help but turn away whenever Lego Steve and Tony flirt or happily bicker. Even the Funkos seem to join in, noisily chattering in that gibberish they use to communicate. Funkolish or whatever.

Seriously, what is with all of the Steves and Tonies flirting in front of him? They don’t need to flaunt their perfect relationship and perfect banter and their perfect everything in front of him. He gets it. He got the short end of the stick. It happens.

“So,” Steve says later that night when they’ve returned home. “Had fun with Endgame Steve?”

There’s an odd edge to Steve’s voice, something Tony can’t identify. Tony’s tempted to prod, but judging by his flushed cheeks, clenched fists, and gritted teeth, Tony doubts he’d get a proper answer out of Steve. Instead, Tony mentally files the observation away for the moment.

“Yup,” Tony replies, feeling a little hollow. “The best. Had fun with Endgame Tony?”

Tony swears he sees Steve’s smile waver and his fingers flex for a second.

“Yup,” Steve echoes brightly, making Tony’s heart sink. “The best.”

* * *

“You’re jealous.”

Tony cocks an eyebrow, wishing he had his helmeted head screwed on. Instead, he lies back down on top Miles’ pencil case. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

Natasha flashes him a knowing look, propping her legs over Tony’s. She’s the latest addition to their merry band of misfits, modeled after her Endgame appearance. Which also makes her the worst person to talk to about this.

Tony loves Natasha. He really, _really_ does. Even if there’s a part of him that’s still fuming over her betrayal, (and yes, he has to remind himself every now and then that they’re toys and not their movie characters) he’d rather have Rhodey or Pepper, or Carol, or Peter to talk to about this. Maybe even Sam, despite the fact that Sam’s been spending most of his time ranting about how much of a fraud Freud (haha, fraud. Freud) is, nowadays (thanks, Miles’ parents). He’d definitely take that rant over this.

On the bright side, at least it isn’t Barnes. He doubts he would’ve lasted a second with him.

Natasha crosses her arms in front of her. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“I don’t know,” he says, parroting her. “Do you?”

Natasha flashes him a withering look, one that means business.

Tony sighs. He would like to keep his head for the moment. “Fine. I think I like him. Happy now?”

“I knew that already. You wouldn’t be jealous, otherwise.”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Do I need to remind you of last week?” Natasha remarks. “You guys have barely spoke to each other since.”

“I’m not jealous over that. Not anymore, anyway. Endgame Steve—”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not jealous because Endgame Tony was interacting with Steve. You’re jealous of the relationships all of Kamala’s Steves and Tonies have. You want what they have.”

“Of course I do,” Tony mutters. “All of them are in love with each other. My— Our Steve? Zero. Zip. Nada—” 

Natasha breaks into a Cheshire grin. “No trust—” 

“Romanoff, I swear if you finish that sentence—” 

She snorts, tucking her feet under her. “Fine. Spoilsport.” 

Tony ignores the jab, placing his hands behind his head. “The point is, I’m not in love with him. At all.”

“What makes you say that?”

Tony scoffs. “C’mon, Nat. All of Kamala’s toys aren’t from the Civil War or Infinity War line. All her action figures are either from the first Avengers, Age of Ultron, or Endgame. So are her Funkos and Legos. And don’t get me started on her Tsum Tsums—”

“He’s a Steve,” she points out.

“A Steve that’s from the Civil War line!”

Natasha sighs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. We both know they’re just movies.”

“And we’re toys based on those movies.”

“If you’re going to argue with me based on that, I’d like to point to you Endgame.”

“Endgame is a terrible movie,” Tony remarks, waving his hand in dismissal.

“It is,” Natasha agrees. Tony starts at that statement but then remembers _that_. “But it doesn’t matter whether you’re from Civil War or Endgame or whatever. You forgot one essential thing.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow.

Her lips curl upwards. “You’re a Tony Stark. He’s a Steve Rogers. You guys are meant to be, whether it’s friendship or romance or whatever. So stop ignoring him, because the next time Steve comes to me whining about how gone you are for Kamala’s Endgame Steve, I’ll steal all of his hands. And I know how much you like his hands.”

She hops to her feet, leaning to press her lips onto the side of his temple. “Just think about it.”

* * *

Natasha’s threat (Tony has no doubt it’s a real threat. It’s Natasha, after all) happened a couple of days ago. Tony hasn’t bothered acting on her words.

Which of course, brings him to this moment – being carried bridal-styled out of a ‘burning building’ (which is just a Barbie dreamhouse covered in paper cutouts of fire) by Steve Rogers.

Which is embarrassing. Sure, it’s fake and sure, it’s all Miles and Kamala’s fault. He’ll never hear the end of it from Rhodey, or Pepper, or Carol, or well, anyone else. He’s going to be the laughing stock of the toy community.

And that’s not even the worst part.

One moment, Kamala’s dramatically having Tony blabber on about how grateful he is to Steve for saving his life and that he missed his stupid face even though he looks like a caveman now and then she’s pressing—

“Hey,” Miles’ mother begins, popping her head into the room. “Dinner’s ready.”

And then suddenly, Tony’s falling. Falling and falling and then suddenly he’s lying on his back, Steve’s broad frame sprawled over him.

Tony doesn’t move a limb until the door shuts behind the kids. When it does, he immediately pushes Steve off him, breaking the kiss.

If that even could count as a kiss, since Tony has his helmeted head on.

Regardless, the gesture seems to bring a crimson blush to Steve’s plastic cheeks and Tony finds himself wishing that he could lean forward or have Steve lean down and—

The resounding slam coming from the bedroom door snaps Tony out of his reverie. It seems to do the same to Steve because his eyelids flutter rapidly, his cheeks darkening further.

“Um,” Steve begins.

“Yeah,” Tony replies.

“So.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That happened.”

“Yup.”

In a flash, they’re scrambling to their feet, hastily grabbing onto each other. In the flurry of activity, somehow Tony ends up tripping over his own feet, knocking him and Steve back onto the ground.

Just like before, Steve’s blue, _blue_ eyes are boring into Tony’s and they’re slowly dilating and all Tony wants to do is press him down. Hold him down and lean forward to—

This time, someone clearing their throat jolts them back to reality. Fortunately, this time, neither of them end up tumbling to the ground.

“Do you—”

“I’m so—”

From the corner of Tony’s eyes, he watches Natasha roll her eyes. “Okay, everyone. Let’s give them some space. Back to the toybox we go.”

A collection of groans fill the room.

“Aw, man!”

“I wanna see how it goes!”

“C’mon, Nat. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for!”

“I’m so happy for you guys, Mr Stark. Captain Rogers. Oh, yeah. Captain Rogers, if you hurt Tony again, I’ll—”

An ear-piercing whistle cuts everyone off.

“Everyone?”

With that, every toy in the vicinity hustles over to the toybox reluctantly, muttering and grumbling under their breath. The only two people who don’t seem to mind are Peter, who flashes them both a thumbs-up in turn and a soft and assuring smile from Natasha. Tony’s heart warms at the sight of them.

But then the toybox shuts with a soft click, the sound echoing throughout the large bedroom, bringing Tony back to reality.

“So,” he begins, eager to be skinned alive as soon as possible and half-hoping Bucky’s hiding somewhere with his rifle somewhere, “what is it you wanna—”

“I like you.”

Tony freezes, his next words dying on his lips. That’s unexpected. Super unexpected. Super unexpected to the point that he’s gaping like a fish for the next several moments.

“Guh,” Tony says intelligently.

“I, uh—” Steve rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks darkening. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

Just like that, all of Tony’s hopes are dashed. “So you don’t like me?”

“No!” Steve exclaims. “I do! I really, really like you. I’m—” He exhales, schooling his features into one that’s full of determination. “I’m in love with you.”

Again, Tony’s train of thought disappears. Because this can’t be real. Can’t be at all. Steve can’t be in love with him. Steve can’t—

“What?” he says, his voice sounding strangled to his ears.

Steve nods, his head frantically bobbing like his Funko counterpart when Funko Tony kissed him that one time. “Yeah. I meant that you weren’t supposed to hear that and I didn’t mean to say it since you’re in love with Kamala’s Endgame Steve and—”

“What?”

“Uh… Aren’t you?”

“No!” Tony exclaims. “He and his Tony are dating. I thought you were into him. Kamala’s Endgame Tony.” He frowns. “Jeez, that’s such a mouthful—”

“I’m not—” Steve cuts in. “I wasn’t—”

Tony clasps his hands together, jabbing his finger at Steve. “Ah ha! I knew you’re into Bucky! There’s no way—”

“I’m not into Bucky either,” Steve says, an annoyed edge to his tone. “What makes you think—”

“Hello? Civil War, anyone? Ring any bells?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, pinning him with his signature Look of Disappointment™. “We’re toys. You very well know we have our own free thought and will.”

“Yeah, but—”

“ _But_ nothing. I can guarantee you Steve isn’t into Bucky in the movies either—”

“Because he’s in love with Peggy. Catch up, will you—”

A deep growl tumbles out of Steve’s lips. “Oh for crying—”

He pulls Tony against his chest and plants the shortest but most passionate kiss Tony has ever experienced onto Tony’s faceplate, where his lips should be.

And just like that, the words on Tony’s tongue die.

“Convinced enough?” Steve murmurs against his faceplate.

Tony feels himself nodding meekly. “I, uh… Yeah. I think. Uh…” He yanks his head back, clearing his throat. “I thought you hated me.”

Steve’s eyes widen, his arms returning to his side. “Hate you? I never hated you, Tony.”

Tony snorts. “You can’t blame me. I’m from the Civil War line.”

“We’re toys,” Steve points out.

“Still. You can’t help it sometimes, you know.”

Steve nods, his gaze dropping down to his wringing gloved hands. “True. But, I mean, that would be hypocritical of me too.”

Tony frowns, puzzled. But then he remembers.

“The beard?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his lips tugging to the side. “The beard. I, uh… I— I mean, movie me. Movie me grew it out. Because of you.”

That isn’t brand new information. Tony’s heard Miles and Kamala discuss it a couple of times before. But to actually hear it from the source, from the man himself—

“And not because you were on the run?”

Steve shakes his head. “If I was on the run, I would’ve shaved my hair off. Or maybe dye my hair blue or something.”

Tony scoffs. “Blue hair defeats the purpose of blending in, Rogers.”

“Hey,” Steve says, his lips curling, “it could work in certain situations.”

“Yeah, but I doubt you’d need to infiltrate anime conventions.”

“Don’t blame me. Blame the writers.”

“Shame. I’ll never get to find out how you feel like clean-shaven.” A thought crosses Tony’s mind. “Unless—”

Steve’s expression hardens. “No.”

“But—”

“No,” Steve repeats, puffing his chest like a jealous robin. “You’ll just have to get used to this. No other Steve can kiss you. Sorry.”

Tony couldn’t help but bark a laugh at that. “Uh sure. Sure you are.”

“I _am_ sorry,” Steve says, smirking. “Well, sorry not sorry.”

“And there it is.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clasping his hands together. “Well now that’s all cleared up, how about taking your helmet off? I’m dying to know how your lips feel.”

Tony chuckles, Steve following along. It’s one of the most melodic sounds Tony has the pleasure of hearing.

“Sure. Let me go and find my other head first.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can reblog this on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron-archive.tumblr.com/post/621364532245299200/sweet-lips-on-my-lips-kiss-like-real-people-do).
> 
> You're welcome to talk to me on [Tumblr](https://nethandrake.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kapteniron). Kudos and comments are appreciated! I'd love to hear what y'all thought! :D


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